


Intimate (Almost Mysterious)

by ladygrange



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, and damn, but i tried for something here, oh gosh and how could i forget the most important tag:, one of these days i'll be brief in my prose, revealing, something like love and knowing, this one feels risky, though i suppose each piece is in its own way, tonight i catch a glimpse of that bearded face, tonight is not that day, we just won't never recover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygrange/pseuds/ladygrange
Summary: the longest night of the year at pangbourne. enjoy <3





	Intimate (Almost Mysterious)

**_December 22nd 1971_ **

Plumes and blossoms scatter around the dining table, float in a wine glass, litter the floor, trail across the hall, gather in pastel drifts at the entry. Flowers still sprout from vases that gleam against the fire - burnished and pretty. Jimmy had ordered them from greenhouses. His smile bright against his beard, arms full of them that morning, as he’d stomped snow from his clogs. Crates of extra flowers waiting at his feet, a few of them collecting snow. A wonderful shock to her, as she’d told him. Perfect for the hibernal solstice, he’d replied to her, a time of rest.

She sags against the front door of Pangbourne with a relieved smile. Jimmy stands before her, having said farewell to their last guest. A whole host of people with enough food to feed them ten times over, her stomach full and content. And yet her nerves leap at the knowledge of what’s still to come. Jimmy steps closer to cup her face; such a warm touch in the lingering chill of the hallway. He strokes her cheek and says,

“You played well tonight, darling.”

She slips her lip between her teeth, her tone wry. “You mean I played some dodgy madrigals while slightly under the influence.”

“No, darling,” he shakes his head, mirth in his crinkled eyes. “I mean, you played well.”

She shrugs. “The piano was out of tune, the black keys were sticking again,” her gaze drifts off the side. “We should really get that checked out...”

“Hush.” His voice is utterly without sting. “Take the bloody compliment. You’ll have Gould quaking in his boots.”

“Good lord, Jimmy.” The beginnings of a grin curl her lips. “How much did  _ you _ have to drink?”

“Just enough, darling.”

She sighs happily. “At any rate, it was an especially good dinner.”

“An excellent dinner,” Jimmy corrects, taking her hands in his to pull her away from the door. Anticipation flares, she worries about her clammy palms, this strange nervousness. Jimmy leans in to kiss her nose. “I’d forgotten how good mash can be.”

She chuckles and finds the memory of the morning soothing. “Yes, you did look like a country yokel with all those potatoes at your feet, peels everywhere.”

“Perhaps I should buy a wagon, darling. Travel around, live as a busker. Be a nomad and all that.”

She scoffs. “You’d miss the river too much.”

Jimmy squeezes her hands, a curious expression on his face, the slight shake of his head, brows pulled in. 

“Not just the river.”

He searches her eyes a minute more, close enough to catch her irises, shafts of light brown through walnut. Muddy, she’s always thought, but he’s absorbed and, for the time being, so is she. Underneath her wool dress, her skin pricks and itches. A flush crawls up her neck, her cheeks, even her ears turn hot. Jimmy smiles and dips a kiss to the ridge of her cheek.

A spark of knowing dances in his eyes as he nuzzles her with his bearded cheeks, licking low to get at her neck, rubbing redness onto her skin. She clasps his shoulder blades with a quick gasp. His lips curve on her.

“So sensitive.”

Voice sheepish, she replies, "You already knew that."

“Yes,” he murmurs, rising to look at her. Their silence is charged, an arc radiating between them. “Come to bed, my darling.”

Jimmy eases the bedroom door open. The fire cracks happily in its hearth, bathing the room in a lovely glow. His black curls gather and sway past his shoulder blades, button down already coming untucked, as usual, while he stokes the flames. She’s sure now that her hand  _ is _ sweaty, and privately admonishes her body for being so skittish. When he turns back, she’s nibbling her lip, an immediate tell. Jimmy clasps her shoulders, right at the curve leading down her arms.

If it had been any other night, any other time, she wouldn’t fidget before him. Worry scrunches her perspective; she won’t meet his eyes. Tension gathers between her shoulders. He seems to be waiting for something.

“I’m-” she pauses, fiddles with his sweater front, feeling foolish, “nervous, which is irrational but...” her hand carries that sentence away.

“No cause to be nervous, my darling,” Jimmy says, gentle voice combing the air. “It’s just me.”

“Yes, exactly,” she murmurs, thumbing one of his buttons now. 

“I believe we have done this before.” He rubs her upper arms as he speaks. “Successfully, I might add.”

A smile tilts her lips. “Think I remember a bit.”

“A bit?” Jimmy says, mock hurt in his tone. “A bit, she says. Much more than that, surely.”

She gives up her post at his button and leans into his chest, burying her face in his sweater, and nods. His laugh rumbles against her cheek. Jimmy takes her hair back to get at her ear, bristle making her shiver. 

“Let me undress you, darling.”

He takes her wrists and kisses each inside, lingering at her scent before letting them drift to her sides. Long bobby pins, tongs Jimmy likes to call them, slip free of her hair and the whole mass falls down her back. Jimmy takes care to run his fingers throughout; he savors her eyes fluttering in pleasure. It’s a relief to get the dress off, the underwear, the light kisses pressed to her body as he goes - black down of his hair on the backs of her thighs, the scrape of his beard amidst kisses and nips. 

Her cheeks redden when Jimmy smacks her bottom, palming the handprint then licking its remaining heat. That light touch, rasp of fingertips, the play of tendons on his wrists as he uncovers her slowly. A tremor in his breath on her bare hip before he stands. Until she’s nearly naked. But he’s still dressed, she notes with a frown.

Without a word - it seems imperative not to interrupt the hushed room now - she frees him of his jacket, his sweater patterned with red flowers, jeans washed a soft blue, all of it falls to the carpet. A rough sound escapes Jimmy at her kiss to his chest, a small bite just left of center.

It’s then, rather inconveniently, she realizes she’s still wearing shoes. She tugs Jimmy to the bed and sits at the edge, trying to remove one shoe but her fingers are frustratingly clumsy, and she quickly fumbles with the miniature buckle.

“This is ridiculous,” she says under her breath. “Don’t remember them being nearly as difficult to get on.” She gives him a worried look from beneath her loose hair. “I’m afraid I’m on the verge of rambling.”

Jimmy, kneeling before her, brushes her hands aside to clasp her ankle. 

“They are awfully small,” he says thoughtfully. His lips quirk. “Dainty.”

“I know, it’s terrible.”

Jimmy breathes a laugh in response and kisses her calf. Desire mingles in that kiss; she makes an effort to even her breathing, and reaches down to sift a hand through his hair - struck by something lodged bright in her chest.

“There now.” He gets the buckle, both of them, off easily and places her shoes aside. “Better?”

She nods, but refuses to give in to the smart at the corners of her eyes. Too early in the night for that. She gathers herself and starts to get out from under him. Jimmy gives her questioning look. 

“Come up here,” voice flimsy, she strengthens it. “Please.”

For a minute, she wants him warm and writhing beneath her. And Jimmy lets her. Lets her push him to his back to dart kisses on his neck, his groan vibrating on her lips. Beard dense and thick to bury her face in before she tracks a path to his chest. Jimmy lets her teeth close on his nipple, to nibble and worry. He fists her hair when she leaves a strawberry on his ribs. He spreads his legs for her, an urgent groan curling above her head when she licks the streaks of pre-come off his belly. She pauses to gaze at him, his lips red and plump and parted. 

At the tightening in her hair, she swipes her tongue over the bead of fluid on his tip and envelopes the swollen tip of his cock. Salty and weeping and just exactly what she wants. Her cheeks hollow, her fingers wrap tightly at his base to cover every bit of available skin. Messy strings of saliva hang between her lips when she rises to take a quick breath. It shouldn't be so urgent, she knows the energy of the night will last. She shouldn't be so hasty, but then she catches sight of his free hand buried in the cover, clutching it fast, and she fills her mouth, moaning as she goes. 

Jimmy gasps in heaves and pleases and bits of praise. Sounds meant only for her. She takes as much as she can, hungry for the jolt on her tongue. His hips jump up and she gladly swallows his semen, sucking until Jimmy tugs her away, his breathing loud and frantic. She briefly considers crawling up beside him but she loves the soft, firm skin beneath his belly button. Nuzzles into it while Jimmy catches his breath; her head rises and falls with his slowing heart. Two hands seek her shoulders, the ends of her hair. They tug her upwards, careless of the little sound of protest she makes. 

He switches their positions effortlessly. Her hair slipped to the side, so it won’t catch, her head on a pillow, his mouth decorating her with red marks and crescent bites.  Jimmy hooks her thighs over his shoulders. Big hands, the span of them across her thighs to open her for his mouth. Possessive fingers that curl into the fleshy parts when she starts to squirm beneath him.

“Darling,” his breath searing and soft. “Don’t move.”

She nods, accepting the terms so long as he kisses her open and tender and helpless.  _ Wanting.  _ Unbridled with it, she makes an encouraging sound. Two long, sleek fingers dragging in and out, his other palm pressing onto her belly, she feels each spasm. His tongue glides long and slow over her clit. 

She raises her head to see three fingers screwing into her slippery tightness. Jimmy rubs his bristly chin over her clit. The heat of his tongue, combined rasp of fingers and beard, the  _ look _ of it shoves her into a desperate release. Toes curled and hips rocking into his lapping tongue. Fingers that press and stretch and curve into the spasms.

Her body strings tight then meltingly loose from Jimmy’s continued licking. She twitches and tries to turn away, her cries, expression, all of it too revealing. A distant part of her knows this is useless. He’s seen her in all shapes. Her grip in his hair tightens to pain. Jimmy does not mind, only licks slowly, tasting her as he would something sweet and ripe, dripping for his touch.

She’s going to orgasm again - a blossom in the dark. But she hasn’t had him inside her and she’s greedy tonight. So is he.

“Jimmy,” she says, tugging him harder now. “Come here.”

Not another word and he’s bending her legs up and over her torso. She seeks his hair immediately while Jimmy settles between her thighs. Her calves rest flat on his upper arms, feet in the air, ass pressed enticingly to his upper thighs. Folded in half and completely at his mercy.

She meets his eyes, through his dark curtain of black hair. That greener depth, hooded now, a bit hazy but so full of yearning she can’t break his stare.

“Take,” she whispers, canting her hips.

Jimmy has her mouth instead. Adoring it, sipping her taste and the interior of her mouth, the tangle with her tongue. She moves to clasp his shoulders, kneading the muscles, urging him on. But Jimmy takes her wrists and pins them on either side of her head. He kisses her a minute longer, sweet and leisurely, as though to get her relaxed in this position. She turns her cheek to gasp and make a needy sound. Jimmy takes pity.

Held open like this, her nipples sucked to tight peaks, sex glazed with arousal, she watches with anxious need as Jimmy guides his cock to her opening; just glancing over her straining clit. She’ll be filled soon. 

Her body closes around him like a hungry mouth, a contact of ache and need. She halfway wonders how it doesn’t hurt him, a grimace on his face as he sinks inside. Her pulse throbs against his palms, where her hands are trapped. 

“More,” she demands softly. 

Then he’s fucking and filling her eager body, empty and then suddenly, so very stretched. Every effort to hold back fails. Every time Jimmy sinks down, adds an extra shift of his hips and presses her deeper into the mattress, she cries out. Jimmy bends to the crook of her neck, rooting around for her ear.

“My darling one.” Voice irresistibly gentle, it makes her flutter around him. “Are you about to come for me again?”

Her head lolls to the side, body accepting each sleek plunge of his hips. Jimmy finds her pulse on her neck, thrumming beneath her skin, and sucks. Until she's coming - hard and relentless and consuming. His tongue rasps over her skin in time to each contraction, never stilling the push of his hips. 

Some thick, meaningless sound escapes her mouth and it tips Jimmy over the edge, into release. She feels that, too. Watches him, his pupils blown, banded thinly by green, mouth parted to show the pink of his tongue against all that dark hair, panting as he works himself through it. 

Barely a minute passes before Jimmy releases her legs, the muscles weak and trembling, her hands tingling but empty of him as he slides down her body.

“Jimmy-” 

Her voice is barely a whisper. Her throat works. 

His tongue swipes through her folds and that last thought vanishes. 

A mix of his spit, her previous orgasms, and his semen coat his lips. Dazed, she tries to form words for him, but she can’t. Instead, a helpless cry when he tucks his fingers inside to slide and slide over that patch of sensitized nerves. Her hips give a weak, involuntary shove that Jimmy easily restrains. He parts her with his thumbs, teasing her clit from its hiding place, so that she’s exposed to the tip of his tongue. The slow trace around her clit draws whines from her throat. 

She palms weakly for his head, to tug him away or closer - she doesn’t know which. She only knows that his beard rubs her with every movement of his head in an aching, sweet friction. That she clamps steadily around his fingers in warning. That Jimmy’s suckle on her clit wrings another orgasm from her - a heat rush that won’t end - her voice keening and low on his name. 

Her eyelids seal shut; won’t open even when Jimmy crawls up and settles on her body. His hands frame her limp head, pull her up, and cradle her. 

“Darling.”

Deep lungfuls of air, that’s all she can manage. He kisses both her lids. 

“Emmaline, look at me. Open your eyes.”

His lips curl when she does, eyes crinkling and soft on hers. The pull of them gentle, piercing. Jimmy nudges his mouth to her jaw and throat, each raspy kiss urging her back into the moment. To relax in his hands. Her skin is cast warm in the flicker and glow of the fire, his saliva a glistening trail to her nipples. Jimmy suckles the already tormented peaks until they’re a stiff red and she’s whining incoherently. A chuckle in his voice, Jimmy raises his head.

“Darling,” he says, “Can you sit up for me?”

She shakes her head.

“Mmm,” he rubs her temples. “I think you can.”

“Can’t,” she retorts weakly. 

“No?” He’s got an arch tone, eyebrows raised, it makes her smile despite herself. “I’ve seen you do it before. On at least one occasion.”

Her eyes drift shut again. “Funny man.”

“Ah,” he tisks. “None of that closing your eyes business, my darling. Come on, sit up.” 

She puts her elbows beneath her and gives him a narrow glance. “What’s in it for me?”

“Lots, but you’ve got to do it first.”

She feels ungainly, leaden as she manages herself into a sitting position. He head spins a bit, eyes squinted at Jimmy, already cross legged and trying to maneuver her onto his lap. Held against him, she burrows into his shoulder and lets him guide her legs around his waist. His erection is trapped between them, insistent and hard and searing on her belly. Jimmy’s hands travel down the valley between her shoulder blades, to the damp cove of her back. She mutters something like a ‘please’ at his grasp on her backside, bearing her up just enough to -

“What was that, darling?” he asks against her ear.

She just latches harder to him and raises her hips. A rumbling, satisfied sound leaves him. He knows without watching how to tease her. His tip just parting her puffy folds. Her body offers no resistance, wet and slippery and fluttering around the invasion. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, bringing her down, flush to his lap and chest. “Does that feel good, my darling?”

“Yes,” she breathes, struggling to get closer.

Closer, closer; still; more.  _ Closer.  _ Until she realizes that there is no more closer than if he had unzipped his ribs and pulled her inside. Jimmy somehow knows. He rocks them gently on the bed, and she feels the twinge inside, the head of his cock nudging the smooth knot of her cervix; breached and full and so sensitive she’s glad he can’t touch her clit. Though it rubs against him on every forward tilt - a motion she’ll feel even after it’s over, as though she’d been in waves, body keeping their rhythm. Jimmy nuzzles filthy nothings into her ear, beard catching her cheeks and sending a flutter to her sex. She trades them with words broken on moans. 

“Jimmy,” she manages, voice slow and pleasure drunk, “going to come.”

“Want you to, darling,” he says with a nip to her ear.

She collects his hair in handfuls and pours her cries into the shallow dips behind his collarbones. Pleasure comes luminous and shivering. Almost strange, almost feared, almost too much so that she arches away. Jimmy gathers her close and piles kisses on her shoulder. Each pull of her muscles sends her deeper into Jimmy’s body. Heels that dig into the give of the mattress and knees pressed to his waist. She thinks she should know the sound of her own voice. But the wail is plaintive and trembling and travels the room like a living thing. 

It takes her a moment to understand it’s her mouth open, her voice saturated like that. Jimmy’s palm envelopes the back of her head, as though to protect her, comfort her, urge her to take every bit of him that spills inside.

Back down to earth with a long shiver and a face squished tight into his neck. Sunk into the thick fudge of time after orgasm, the way it sticks in her mouth, ebbs away slowly. She feels herself boneless and in need of piecing.

They’re still rocking, she realizes, slow but steady. Jimmy shudders against her. He’s got her hair in his fist and her hips locked with his other arm. As though she might suddenly melt to the box spring. She nudges kisses along the nearest bit of exposed skin in the hopes of translation - of her presence. His back is smooth, hot, and taught on her palms as she rubs up and down. She tries to slow her breathing, wills his to match. And it does eventually. Eventually, with a soft collapse, Jimmy meets the cover, the pillows - she breathes deep into his body. A moment stretches out before he speaks. 

“I never know what happens between us in these moments. Only feel it.”

She senses a question in his rasping voice and lifts her head from his shoulder. Puddles of his dark hair rest on the pillow, heavy drawn eyes, their slant and slope; strange-wayed as they watch her, an urgency in them that disarms her. 

“What happens between us...” she repeats. Uncertainty marks her worried lip. “During sex, you mean?”

“No, not just then.” Jimmy shrugs and looks away and something flashes in his eyes that makes her heart clutch. “Sort of hard to explain. Maybe you don’t feel it...”

Understanding strikes her. He wants reassurance. At that, she clasps his face. 

“My  _ darling _ ,” she says, taking his endearment into her mouth, accepting the pair of eyes that flick to her. “You’re asking what I feel when I’m with you, here and elsewhere.”

He gives her a guarded expression. She can’t fathom that look, except that it must protect him in some way. She continues.

“If perhaps I feel what you do.” 

Her words produce a worried nick between his brows. She releases his face and thinks she sees a hint of disappointment in the downturn of his lips. The mattress springs creak as she adjusts her position on top of his chest. Her voice emerges soft, thoughtful.

“Did you ever read  _ Henry IV _ ? In school, perhaps, or own your own?”

Jimmy blinks in surprise and shakes his head.

She swirls patterns in his chest hair, gaze set on the rise of his chest.

“At one point, midway through, Prince Hal play-acts with his mate, Falstaff. Hal’s spoofing his father, the king, judging whether or not Falstaff’s a proper companion. And of course it’s clever and witty and rousing but eventually Falstaff pleads a bit. Says he’s good, true, and kind. That to banish him would be to banish all the world.” 

She flattens her palm over his chest - solid thump grown fast - quick rush like the one running parallel. 

Meeting his eyes, she says steadily, “Couldn’t ever banish you. Not ever.”

She goes on, some pull to speech she doesn’t quite understand, noting the notch between his brows has disappeared. Jimmy regards her with a searching expression. Some mysterious ache there.

“It’s strange to have loved you this long. Stranger still that I can’t remember not doing it.” She laughs, almost to herself. “I’m not trying to say I’m the king to your Falstaff, only that...” She bites her cheek and searches and comes to it with an expelled breath. “I have known you. Know you, and it is good.”

His mind, quick-running and keen, works through her words. She waits patiently as Jimmy wets his lips and looks about to say something, only to lapse once more into his head. His hands slide along her back, arms twine so tight around her waist and shoulders that she has no choice but to rest her head in the crook of his neck; where his warmth and scent mingle. At last she feels his jaw move against her.

“My heart is clear with you,” he says, a brilliant sort of wonder in his voice. “I think-”

“Think what?” she questions the beard pressed to her lips, voice muffled. 

“Think I’ve known you, too. Know you still.”

“You do,” she replies easily.

She brings her hand to the other side of his face, and turns it against hers. Jimmy loosens his grip enough to allow a hint of space. She runs her fingers through his beard and into his hair, scraping gently at his scalp, and back again. His gaze is steady, open. 

She knows the truth of that gaze between them. Affirms it silently. Holds it all in her own and does not worry about saying anything else. 

Jimmy offers the tempo of his body. The long line of him warm and known, now with a kiss every so often. Now she traces the outer whorl of his ear, stained bright pink, the soft lobe, then back again to his cheek, now to scratch lazily - now with a bit of a smile creasing his eyes. Now, it is enough to take good care, to bed down, make well for the morning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i never know what to say in these notes!! but i do want to leave a poem by octavio paz that really caught my attention after writing this. i hope (HOPE!) it speaks the atmosphere: "the elements are reconciled // night has stretched out // and its body is a powerful river of sudden sleep // we rock in the waves of its breathing // the hour is tangible // we can touch it like fruit"
> 
> thank you thank you for reading. these things have so much of me <3


End file.
